Welcome to the Flaming Faggot

Callovia is called "the boundless empire" yet you have managed to find its northern border - a notorious roadhouse deep within the Madrasan Marches on the edge of the wilds of Llanvirnesse. The sign above the door reads "Flaming Faggot," which would suggest a cozy, homey inn with fresh biscuits served at teatime if not for the severed troll heads mounted on pikes at the gate.

As you cross the threshold the raucous din quiets momentarily as all eyes dart to the door and calloused hands drop instinctively to well-worn sword hilts. The threat, instantly assessed, is dismissed and roadhouse patrons go about their business hardly missing a beat.

Grim, hard-eyed men huddle around tables in close conversation thick with conspiracy; caravan guards gamble away their earnings; Caemric rangers sit close to the fireplace cooking the damp of the Black Annis from their clothes as they warm their innards with Red Dragon Ale; minstrels play and buxom wenches dance for the pleasure of men who pay them little attention - until they need a companion to warm their bed.

As you approach the bar, a huge, bald barman with a greatsword slung across his back slides a mug of freshly-pulled ale towards you, its frothy head dripping over the rim.

"Pull up a seat, lad," he says, "and let me tell you a tale of high adventure."

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Assault on Angelis: Round Four

Still reeling from the Gods-awful drubbing I received at the hands of the Dark Angels, my poor beleagured orks blundered headlong into a Chaos Space Marine expeditionary force just returning from a decisive victory against the tyranid broods.

What followed was a terrifically fun and close-fought game. In the beginning things looked exceedingly grim for me. My trukk full of Nobz was destroyed in the first turn and as soon as the Nobz bailed out they were hit by a high strength template weapon that wiped out the whole squad but for the Warboss and banner bearer. These guys are the heavy-hitters of my army and with them gone, I didn't fancy my chances for the rest of the game.

As it turned out, however, luck was my mistress that night and she was generous with her favours. My Warboss cried "Waaghh!!" as he and the banner bearer charged the Chaos heavy weapons squad. The banner bearer was slain in the assault, but the Warboss laid about in a power-clawed frenzy, seeing off the Chaos marines. Though badly wounded, the Warboss, now alone, charged towards a nearby Greater Demon of Slaanesh bellowing a challenge.

The second turn also saw the arrival of my Stormboyz who were able to deepstrike from reserve and immediately assault a Chaos Defiler, destroying it.

The game proceeded in much the same fashion; my dice rolls were so lucky that my shooting attacks were nearly as effective as my close combat assaults, and several Chaos marines fell to slugga shots in the head while my Deffkopta squadron killed a Greater Demon of Nurgle with a volley of missile fire. Considering that orks' ballistic skill is so poor that their guns are really only for shooting in the air to make noise, the amount of damage I was able to inflict with shooting attacks was phenomenally good.

The only fly in my ointment was that blasted Demon of Slaanesh. After slaying my Warboss it spent the rest of the game using the most annoying psychic power ever devised, lash of submission, which allows the user to move an enemy unit 2d6" in any direction. This power was used to great effect, pushing my oncoming squad of boyz further and further away each turn, and then pulling another squad off of the objective that I was claiming, allowing the Chaos marines to take it for themselves. It was then that luck proved to be a fickle mistress, indeed, as I rolled a '1' at the end of turn five, ending the game prematurely, with the Chaos Marines in control of one objective. Naturally, I had just killed the Slaanesh Demon that was aggravating me all game and I would finally have been able to get my boyz into the fight and take the objective back if the game hadn't ended.

So, I chock up another loss, but a great game that featured several exciting battles and much fun.
On the other side of the room, the Dark Angels were slaughtering their tyranid opponents in much the same one-sided fashion that they massacred me last game.

I'd be hard pressed to nominate an MVP for the game from my army: one of my squads of boyz did a lot of the heavy lifting and held an objective for several turns before being forced off; my Deffkoptas were wildly successful with their shooting, slaying a greater demon; but I have to give the nod to my Warboss who single-handedly defeated an entire heavy weapons squad and then, despite having only one wound left, had the orky audacity to go toe-toe with another greater demon. That's pretty damned heroic.